Wool Over Your Eyes
by Number1PixarFan
Summary: (RATING HAS BEEN BUMPED TO M) The attraction was mutual from the very beginning. They both knew it; everyone did. Before either of them got the guts to do something about it, though, it was too late. A series of Sammy/Susie moments taking place at various points in the timeline. Warnings inside.
1. Hands

**A/N: I just got into this fandom and fell in love with this ship right away. My only issue? Everything people have written for them is far too wholesome and happy. Sammy and Susie are both such dark, tragic characters – a dark, tragic romance is only fitting. And so, I was inspired to do my own take. This is going to be a series of drabbles about Sammy and Susie at different points in the timeline – no real order, just whatever ideas strike me.**

 **I'm not sure if Sammy chopping off his fingers is canon or just something that the fandom made up because I never really noticed that in the game. Either way, it's a powerful image.**

 **TW for this chapter: gore and self-mutilation**

 **Please enjoy and don't forget to review!**

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His pinky on his right hand was already gone when they found him. Susie begged him to stop but he kept on hacking. Hacking. Hacking away with his four-fingered cartoon hand at the strands of muscle fiber that kept his other fifth finger attached, blubbering in pain every time the rusty fire axe collided with bone.

Mr. Drew wrenched the axe out of his hand and Susie fell to her knees by his chair. "No, Sammy, Sammy, what have you done, what did you _do_?" she wailed. As the blood loss made his head droop, she took his pale face in her hands. "Don't leave me, don't you _dare_ leave me, Sammy!"

One of his eyes opened and stared straight through her. "Alice…?" She had never before heard his lovely voice so slurred, so purposeless. He was dying. And happy as she would be to be called Alice at any other time, right now there was too much that Susie had left unsaid.

"I'm – I never forgave you for everything that happened with Allison. I should have, a long time ago, and I can't believe it's taken me 'til now…" She ran her hands over his face, down his neck, through his curls that were matted down with blood. It made her sick how right it felt. How many opportunities had she gotten and squandered to touch him like this and hold his beauty in the palm of her hand? She caressed his corpse-like cheek. "I'm sorry."

"Don't act so defeated, Ms. Campbell!" said Mr. Drew, hooking his arms under Sammy's to hoist him out of his chair. Susie gasped and grabbed onto his bloodied wrists as he was lifted away from her. "He's gonna be just fine."

"You don't really think so?" Susie said hoarsely. As she stood, Sammy groaned and tilted his head, muttering something about _the flesh, the ugliness of the flesh_

 _Alice!_

Through the well of tears in her eyes, Susie could see Mr. Drew's shiny, too-wide smile. "Trust me, sweetheart, I can get him fixed up right away. Good as new or even better." His expression flattened suddenly into one of deep concern. "Head on home, Ms. Campbell. A girl who's seen what you have oughta get some rest."

She didn't trust him, but what other choice did she have? She held Sammy's poor, mangled hands tight against her chest, feeling the warm blood seep into her blouse. "You hear that, Sammy?" she whispered in some shaky, tearful attempt at hope. "Joey is gonna take you to a doctor and you'll be all patched up. And when you are? Sammy, we'll be together, I promise we will, with everything we both wanted but were too shy to say out loud – the house, the kids, the room that's just for us and a grand piano…"

Her tears began to pour as Mr. Drew started to drag him away to who-knows-where. Sammy's hands slipped out of hers, and as they did, Sammy happened to open his eyes just slightly enough to notice his left pinky finger, frayed at the edges and still dangling from his hand by a string of calloused skin. The shock made him raise his head and locked lucid eyes with Susie, allowing her to share in his final terrified moments of clarity. Before Mr. Drew disappeared around the corner, she swore she saw Sammy mouth _Susie_.

Susie couldn't bring herself to run. She collapsed onto her hands and knees as she screamed after him: "Even if things are different, Sammy, I promise! If you can't play your banjo like you used to, if you have to relearn every instrument you ever played and you can't keep your job… You're more than this studio, Sammy! You're more than your music! I love you for so much more than that, I promise!"

His rambling response to her echoed down the halls. "Sing thy praise for the Ink Demon, that He might remake thee in His own image!" And Susie sobbed.

It was the only time she ever told him she loved him. Of course it had to be the very moment he lost the ability to listen to her forever. Just their luck.


	2. Perfect

**A/N: I guess this one isn't technically a drabble because it's over one thousand words. Oh well, it's still short.**

 **So apparently I headcanon Susie and Sammy as a "smol and tol" pair. I'm not usually drawn in by that kind of thing but it works for them and I think it turned out pretty cute (they're allowed to be cute here because this scene takes place before things started going crazy at the studio).**

 **TW for this chapter: Susie has some body image issues. It's really a lighthearted chapter, though.**

 **Enjoy!**

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Sammy's first thought when he met her had been that her figure would never read well on a movie screen. _Must be why she turned to voice acting_ , he'd guessed as Joey guided her away to meet the rest of her new coworkers. Susie Campbell was not a large girl (quite tiny, in fact – standing she only came up to Sammy's chest), but she more than filled out her dress. Her arms and legs were thick, and even though her chest was ample enough, her narrow shoulders and straight hips denied her the hourglass shape that had made so many of the day's more bosomy starlets.

Of course, Sammy did not care for the day's starlets. Miss Campbell was far more appealing to him. He only wished he'd expressed that to her in a better way than he had.

Susie was in what was at that point still a break room, reviewing her lines and chewing on a pencil. She was on her feet in seconds when Sammy stuck his head in to ask if she was busy. "Not at all, Mr. Lawrence!" she said in that sweet, chirpy voice of hers.

He bit down on the inside of his lip to hold in his smile. "Excellent. Henry needs some assistance and I told him you're the perfect girl for the job."

She followed happily, with just the slightest bit of concern. "Henry who?"

"You'll recognize him."

* * *

"So, Boris has followed Bendy to a barn dance. He's looking for Bendy when he gets caught up dancing with a young lady, the gag being that she's half his size." Henry leaned against his drafting table and rubbed his eye, already exhausted. "Think you can do that, Susie?"

Susie giggled. "You're Boris?" she said, looking at Sammy.

Sammy grumbled and nodded. "Yes. Every time" He was tall and lanky and wore suspenders every day and as punishment, the animators had made him their go-to Boris reference. They'd stopped asking him why he wasn't eating sandwiches at lunch, but it was still humiliating.

"That's sweet," said Susie genuinely.

Sammy had to press his lips together to keep the corners of his mouth from ticking up. "This had better not take long, Henry," he said tersely.

"Just a few sketches to get the proportions right," promised Henry. He straightened up his papers and readied his pencil. "Okay… could you get into position like you're about to start dancing?"

Sammy stood awkwardly still, and was about to demand more instructions from Henry when he felt a small hand slide into his. Susie laced their fingers together as she stepped in close. She had to stand on her tiptoes to place her hand on his shoulder, and as she reached, she pressed her chest flush against him. Sammy could feel her breasts rising and falling as she breathed. They definitely looked ridiculous as dance partners, but wasn't why he was blushing.

"Mr. Lawrence? You need to put your hand on my waist."

"Right," he said. She sounded flirtatious. He hoped she was.

They stayed in that pose for a while as Henry, ever the perfectionist, gradually captured their outlines on his paper. Susie almost lost her balance a minute in, but Sammy caught her and, reflexively, tightened his hold on her so she wouldn't fall again. She looked up at him and whispered, "Thanks," and the intimacy of the moment made a cozy warmth spread throughout his body.

"Call me Sammy," he whispered without thinking. "I'm your colleague, not your chemistry teacher."

A mischievous smile crept across Susie's face. "Really?" she said, scrunching her nose up adorably. That decided it: yes, she was flirting with him, and yes, this was the girl he would marry. He suddenly no longer cared how long Henry kept them busy.

They did two more poses for him. One was to illustrate Boris twirling the girl away from him, and Susie further endeared herself to Sammy with the way her skirt swirled around her knees as she spun. The other – and Henry's chuckle when he said this was not appreciated – had the girl pulling Boris down to her level to kiss him on the nose. Of course, since Sammy didn't have a wolf's snout, Susie just mimed kissing the air in front of him. The sight of her delicate pursed lips hovering inches away from his while her hands clutched his suspenders tempted him to say _Screw you, Henry_ and go for it, but he was professional enough to wait until there were no animators present.

"That'll be it," Henry said finally, dropping his pencil and stretching out his wrist with an audible click.

Susie sighed as she let Sammy's suspenders snap back to him. "Oh, that was fun. Wasn't it, _Sammy_?" she said, patting him teasingly on the arm. Sammy realized at that moment that he had been holding his breath. He could only nod in response, which made her giggle. She batted at his chest before turning to Henry. "Can I see them?"

The animator raised an eyebrow. "Um… I suppose so?" He turned the drafting table out slightly so she could join him.

Sammy didn't give a crap about Henry's doodles –he knew they would just be a collection of vaguely person-shaped ovals with animal ears tacked on, and on any other day the animation wouldn't matter to him until it was a finished product he could score. But this girl and her charming grin lured him over to the table. He still wanted to be near her and see what she saw, and unfortunately, this meant that they both spotted it at the same time. It wasn't one of an animator's standard ovals. At the front of the shorter figure's head, Henry had drawn what was clearly a pig's snout.

Sammy's stomach twisted as the image sunk in. He shut his eyes and grit his teeth. He hadn't known, Jesus Christ, he hadn't known…

"This is what I'd be 'perfect' for." Susie's voice had gotten very quiet and choked up. When Sammy got the nerve to open his eyes again, she was looking at her shoes, her smile quickly fading. "Well. At least I know what you really think."

Even running away, she was enchanting. Sammy cursed when she as out of earshot and slammed a fist against the drafting table. "A pig, Henry? Are you kidding me?"

"It's a barnyard scene, Sammy," said Henry, already back to drawing. "It was either this or a cow." He was looking away from Sammy sheepishly. Good. At least he realized how far he had set him back.

When he met with Susie later to record, her eyes were glimmering and tinged with red. She kept her arms crossed over her round stomach as she sang, and it pained Sammy to see her so self-conscious. He knew that he could make it better by telling her just how perfect he thought she was – not as a movie star, not as a cartoon, just as a wholly perfect woman. But he didn't say it. He was afraid now that she wouldn't believe him.

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 **A/N: Ouch, Sammy, you really shot yourself in the foot there, didn't you?**

 **I like to imagine that Alice's obsession with making herself beautiful stems partially from Susie's own negative body image. It gives her a little more depth, I think; the villainess whose only characteristic is vanity is kind of a boring one.**


	3. Untouchable

**A/N: Okay, I don't think I can call this a series of drabbles anymore because two in a row have been over a thousand words. It's just a series of spuriously connected one-shots now. Also I will live by the interpretation that Alice Angel is Susie and Allison smooshed together until it is explicitly debunked by later chapters.**

 **Warning for this chapter: a little bit of steaminess and a little bit of violence, but not nearly enough of either to merit a move to the M-rating** _ **just**_ **yet.**

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The human man Allison had once known was passive in the sack – she would attack him and he would just sigh, close his eyes, and let it happen. But this being that now called itself Sammy Lawrence was absolutely rapacious after so many years without a female's touch. He held Alice Angel against the locked door by her slender waist, practically purring against her skin as he traced her collarbone with his inky lips. She gasped his name and he chuckled in that sinful voice, "Mmm, _say it_."

Kissing Sammy was nothing like Allison remembered. But of course, he wasn't really kissing _her_ this time, was he?

His tongue probed the dry, imperfect maw that was the left side of Alice's mouth, and the voice that moaned out in response morphed into the girlish squeak of Alice's more imperfect half. "Oh, Sammy," cried Susie as he nipped her behind the ear. "That feels so nice, Sammy. Don't stop!" She curled her leg around his and gripped the back of his head, grasping desperately at coffee-colored locks that were no longer there.

Susie wanted him. She wanted him so sincerely that it made her insides burn, and it had taken sharing her body for Allison to actually believe it. She had always perceived Susie to be jealous and petty, embittered by the loss of her stupid voice acting role. When the little blonde saw Sammy and Allison together, she would always glare at them, then audibly start to cry as she turned and stomped away. Allison had assumed this was a put-on. It was never about him; Susie just couldn't stand to see her with anything she couldn't have. But if she had known how deeply Susie really did care for Sammy…

Well, she would have kept seeing him, most likely. Sammy had been far too good a catch. In hindsight, his desire for Susie was even more obvious than Susie's was for him, but Allison had rationalized everything away. Surely his wistful stares as she ran away from them were just Sammy being Sammy, getting lost inside his own brilliant mind at an inopportune moment. _He's a passionate man,_ she told herself. _If he loved her, he would have acted upon it and left me by now._ Allison had thought they were good together. But clearly, she had been wrong. Until she joined Susie as the Angel, Sammy had never touched her like this.

His wandering hand found the hem of Alice Angel's dress and pushed it aside to allow his fingers to scale her stomach. They were cold and wet and of course there were only four of them, but he still had the dexterity of a musician, and he played a sweet melody on her most private skin. "Get ready, my darling," he murmured against her neck.

Alice was shivering and speechless as Sammy went to untie the string that held up her dress. One of her hands was clenched by her side, trembling in anger and confusion over how poorly she actually knew this man with whom she'd lived in sin for months. But Susie's hand reached up to cradle his face. Her breath hitched, and she spoke in an exhale, "God, Sammy… this is finally happening. I'm … I'm overjoyed." She moved her head to lock empty eyes with him, making him pause before she was completely exposed to him for the first and dozenth time. "I love you."

Sammy stilled against her. "Oh," he said.

He didn't go back to undressing her. He looked at the ceiling and inhaled slowly, worrying every part of Alice. "Is something the matter?" she said in two voices.

"Oh, no, no, nothing's the matter. Nothing at all." Sammy's external facial features were nearly indistinguishable in this form, but as the smile crept across his face, his teeth shined bone-white. "I understand now, temptress."

Alice's eyes widened. "Sammy, what do you –" she began, before being shoved against the door. He backed away from her and she fell on her behind. The pain made tears prickle her one good eye.

"You were sent to me by the Dark Lord, weren't you?" he snarled. "As a test. Would I be seduced by a woman in the garb of His nemesis?"

"No!" Alice gasped. "No, Sammy, of course I wasn't… I didn't mean –"

"The whore almost had me," he interrupted. He crouched down to her level, getting his face very close to hers. There was no intimacy this time; he was scrutinizing her like a specimen in a laboratory. "He made her ugly, yes, _very_ ugly, yet there was something charming about her – the way she moved, the words she said. Something familiar, something comfortable." He reached around her neck again and refastened her dress with a choking tug. "Suspiciously comfortable."

Allison remembered how frightening it had been to watch Sammy lose his mind as a human. She was ready to physically fight him if she had to. But Susie wasn't allowing that. When Sammy twisted a hand in Alice's hair and yanked hard enough to remove a few inky strands, she only stayed still and cried.

"Save your tears," he spat into her ear. "You're some sort of apparition. I know you can't feel pain."

"S-Sammy…"

"Fly back to Hell, Angel." He stood suddenly, slamming her head against the wall. "And when you get there, tell Bendy His prophet could not be tempted." He grabbed his mask and stalked away with his chest out.

Alice pulled her knees to her chest and dejectedly straightened her halo. There were two little puddles of ink where his feet had been; she dipped the tips of her fingers in the ink, then with a sigh, closed those fingers into a fist. It was likely the last bit of Sammy she would ever hold close.

Allison had never felt anything closer to true love than the emotions to which Susie had just let her be privy. She understood now – how painful must it have been to be left behind, for Bendy or for a trollop like Allison Pendle? She supposed that was one thing about Sammy that could not and would not ever change. He was devoted, and always to the wrong thing. Susie was just too right for him. Silently, Allison told her this, and they both cried together.

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 **A/N: Happy Valentine's Day everybody! This is almost too romantic, I know.  
**


	4. Cleanliness

**A/N: Oh, hello there, M-rating. How I've missed you.**

 **I will give my warning now: This chapter is about a woman masturbating on a washing machine. It's not explicit at all, but that is what happens, so if that makes you uncomfortable you do not have to read it.**

 **Part of me really wanted to make this historically accurate so I read a lot about what old washing machines were like. Another, saner part of me knew that this was just some porny fanfic and that it didn't really matter. So, you know, I tried, but with the end result you could just as easily picture a modern washing machine and it wouldn't make a difference.**

 **CW: Sexual content as previously mentioned, romanticization of painfully antiquated gender roles.**

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The ink stained their clothes badly, and although it seemed at first like the least of the problems hoist upon them by Mr. Drew's machine, the extra time and money it forced them all to spend on laundry added up to quite a lot. Susie's auntie and uncle owned a fancy automatic washing machine and they let her use it every other Sunday for the small price of a smile and a plate of ginger cookies. But most of her coworkers were not so lucky. Sammy had started coming in to work in rumpled shirts drenched in cologne. One day he wore a pair of pants that had barely survived a flood in the Music Department two weeks earlier, and when he walked, the stiff, black cuffs around his ankles rubbed against each other with a scraping sound.

"I can't afford a washerwoman anymore," he'd griped when Susie asked him about it. She hated to see how tense and uncomfortable it made him. He refused several times – even in his worst moods he _tried_ to be polite – but she finally convinced Sammy to let her do his laundry.

Auntie Helene didn't seem bothered by the impromptu visit, although she threw Susie a suspicious glare when she saw that her knapsack was full of men's clothing. "I'm only doing a favor for a friend," Susie promised.

"Damn substantial favor," Helene grumbled, raising an eyebrow.

"You don't want to be late to church, Auntie."

His pants had received the worst of the ink's fury – Susie was relieved for once that her skirts only went past her knees – so she filled a tub with cold water to soak them while she washed his shirts. The woodsy scent of his cologne leeched onto her fingers as she moved the shirts into the basin of the machine. She knew Sammy had only started wearing so much cologne to mask his sweat, but the smell of oak moss genuinely reminded her of him in a way that made her heart jump. The basin started to fill with water, and she sighed happily as she closed the lid.

Susie couldn't see herself completely giving up her life as a working woman in favor of domesticity, but given the conditions at the studio, it was fun to pretend. She cracked open the window to let some air into the laundry room, then she went out to the kitchen. Helene and Cliff didn't have the biggest house, but it was comfortable. Susie could imagine how pleasant it would be to cook bacon and eggs on that shiny copper stove as morning streamed through the sheer curtains overlooking the dining table. She snuck one of the ginger cookies she'd brought over and rested her elbows on the counter as she nibbled on it. The idyllic picture in her head grew more detailed: memories of children in pajamas gathering around for breakfast, the smell of coffee brewing, the clack of Uncle Cliff's typewriter working on the next great American novel…

Or the scratch of a pen on manuscript paper composing the next great American rag.

As she ambled dreamily between the kitchen and the laundry room, she almost slipped on a piece of white fabric on the floor. One of Sammy's undershirts. _It must have fallen out of the knapsack,_ she thought. _I can slip it in with the rest._ But as she approached the machine, it suddenly began to rumble and shake harder – it was starting to spin. Putting it in now wouldn't do any good.

The machine's vibrations could now be felt through the floor. They were rather calming. Susie leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, absentmindedly clutching his undershirt to her chest. The smell of his cologne pulled her back into her imagination. Sammy was there with her now, of course he was; he had her in his arms, kissing her before leaving for work, some new job that fulfilled rather than stifled him. It was lovely to picture him so happy, and it made a blissful smile cross Susie's face. While Sammy was away, she would vacuum and do repairs around the house. When he got home, he would be whistling.

Now they were kissing again, more deeply this time. Susie pressed the undershirt against her skin and inhaled, and she could almost feel his warm breath on her cheeks, his hand stroking her arm. Her breath came out heavy, and she heard herself sigh, high-pitched and pleading. Sammy may have only been there in Susie's head, but the throbbing heat growing between her legs was very real.

And the rumbling of the washing machine was only making it worse.

The thought mortified her when it first crossed her mind. _At home in your own bed, that's one matter. But around his things, when he's trusted you with them?_ It made her feel like a harlot. But the vibrations were drawing her in, and sick as they may have been, Susie didn't want to ignore the urges. She shouted into the house to make certain that her aunt and uncle had really left, and when she was sure she was alone, she approached the machine. She placed one hand on top of the wringer to brace herself and then, fingers digging into the fabric of his undershirt, she leaned forward and gently, gently pressed her hips to the edge of the basin.

The sensation reverberated through her body, pulsing and ebbing out from that one little spot that made her shout in surprise and ecstasy. She was so sensitive already; had it been longer than she thought since she'd allowed herself to do this? Or was it just thoughts of him that were so arousing?

" _Sammy_ ," she whimpered, answering her own question. "Oh, _oh,_ Sammy, right there…" She brought the undershirt up to her nose and he was there, making love to her in a space that was theirs alone: in a queen-sized bed or in the shower, or perhaps up against the antique grand piano he'd been saving up to buy before his finances went to shit. Sammy was gentle, but just selfish enough to remind her that he was the man of the house. She wanted to please him. Making him feel good was how she would please herself. But as long as she was alone, she had to settle for this.

She wanted to lift up her skirt and remove one of the layers separating the machine from her aching center, but her arms were numb and locked from the pleasure. Fully clothed, all she could do was grind her hips harder against the basin and muffle her cries with Sammy's undershirt as she rode her domestic fantasy to climax. As if it had been waiting for her, the machine shuddered to a stop. She felt filthy. But his shirts were clean.

* * *

She could barely look at Sammy when she gave him the clothes back. The gratitude in his voice made her blush; if he only knew just how much she had gotten out of the favor.

Soon enough, though, he was frowning, a familiar expression that brought Susie all the way back to cruel reality. "I put the pants through twice, but the stains wouldn't come out," she explained. "I'm sorry, Sammy. They might never be good-as-new again."

Sammy scoffed. "Of course. That goddamn ink machine. It ruins everything." He stuffed everything back into the knapsack and threw it over his shoulder before standing to leave. His expression softened slightly as he looked back at her. "Thanks anyway," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder and leaving a chaste kiss on her forehead before he went back down to the basement.

The kiss was dry and passionless: everything Susie's weekend had not been. But she had to believe that it wasn't his fault. Sammy had it in him to be the happy, doting breadwinner to her doting, happy housewife. It was just that, at the moment, the most important machine in their lives was a leaky, noisy harbinger of misery. If they were lucky one day, it would be a shiny appliance no louder than a purr that at least tried to clear away the stains and make things beautiful again.

* * *

 **A/N: Eh, I don't love the way it turned out. But there are so many things I should have been doing instead of writing this, I just needed to get it done and published.**


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